


The Agony Of Watching

by Aristathelia



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Character Death, Emotional Hurt, Gen, I am so sorry, Physical Abuse, Torture, Violence, Warlocks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-29
Updated: 2015-06-29
Packaged: 2018-04-06 18:02:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4231485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aristathelia/pseuds/Aristathelia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Imagine Person A being forced to watch Person B being tortured." - Prompt fill.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Agony Of Watching

Dean couldn’t stand it. All of his limbs had been secured to a solid column hours ago. Being forced to stand, with no room to move, in a dark (a sharp sniff) and damp room was simply embarrassing. When he got out of this, and Sammy got back from visiting his damn dog, his brother would probably laugh in his face for falling for such a blatant trap.

But Dean had been on his own, and whether he would admit it or not, feeling a little lonely. So when he saw a flash of light down an alley, along with a gruff rumble of a voice, he had assumed that Cas had popped by for one of his disgruntled staring matches.

Running headlong into a trap like that was not something he would have done had he been with his brother. He thought smarter around Sammy. Sometimes he thought it was because he had something a little more precious to protect than himself then.

A bang from above drew him from his internalised, self deprecating monologue. A couple of scuffs sounded through the cheap wooden floor and Dean braced (as much as he could while held in position).

After a while of holding his breath, the door banged open and a small group of Warlocks pushed through dragging a tall, broad man. His heart nearly stopped when Cas’s beaten and bloodied face came into view, rolling back when he was hauled into a chair and chained down. A collar had been secured around his neck and chained to the floor, his wrists secured together and tethered to the wall behind him, his ankles cuffed to the bolted-down chair legs. Dean instantly started struggling again his bindings, wanting to find a way to his angel, and was mostly ignored by the group of conspiring men.

Deans struggling came to a halt when Cas’s eyelids started to flutter, a pained grimace coming over his wounded face. Azure eyes opened slowly and locked instantly on Dean’s, emotions streaking over the glassy surface while the angel took in his surroundings. Dean tried the best he could to communicate with a look how much he needed Cas to be okay, how much it hurt him to see Cas bloodied.

During their silent conversation the Warlocks had apparently finished discussing what they needed and solidified their plan. Whatever it was. Dean had been too preoccupied with making sure Cas was okay. He cursed himself fluently.

A strip of tape was forcefully slapped over his mouth, giving him no chance to pull back. Not that it would have done him much good either way.

When the group of robed Warlocks surrounded the angel Dean could do nothing but watch and pull against his bindings. Candles were placed around the still angel and lit so that the glow lit up Castiel's face from below, making his beaten face look more menacing than ever. Dean’s breath caught in his throat. This obviously didn’t deter the group.

Dean caught the glint of a knife and started shouting against his gag, tendons standing out against his neck as he twisted and howled. No, not Cas, never Cas. But all it seemed he was able to do was scream and pull, while he watched the Warlocks slowly start their bloodletting.

Daggers slicked through skin like butter, carving a bloody path across the angels body. Dean could see Cas tensing up, a surprised choking noise leaving his cracked lips each time a new spray of red streaked the floor.

Tracks of saline were carving burning lines across Castiel's bloodied face. Pain strung his body tight and wrenched the most ungodly noises from his clenched vocal-cords. Dean felt tears stinging his own eyes as he screamed along with him, his body giving a forceful jerk each time he saw the daggers sinking deep. All he could do was watch and feel his rage build and build until all he could feel was the overwhelming need to do murder. The only thing that had ever rivaled the intensity of rage was the all consuming love for his protector. His angel. His best friend.

Dean hung his head, his body sagging with relief when the cutting stopped. When Castiel’s pained cries quietened to surprised and frightened whimpers. Tears dripped from Deans face, drops falling from his chin and nose, saline beading on his blond lashes.

He didn’t know what to do. He never fucking knew what to do. He could never save the ones that were truly important. And yet he continued to live. Him. The man who spent his life murdering people in the name of ‘Good’. He had so much blood on his hands he knew he would never entirely be clean.

When Castiel first came to him, announced that he was an angel, Dean could feel the purity coming off him in waves. His first thought had been ‘What if that grace could scour me clean, make me pure again?’ That was back when he thought it possible. Now he knew that purity was not just the absence of evil, but a state of mind. One he had felt barely a couple of months after Castiel had graced his life.

He remembered sitting on Bobby’s old threadbare couch, his brother’s lanky body stretched beside him and his favourite angel grinning at the two as they fought over research. He remembered wanting life to never change. He remembered feeling pure, good, right.

Now, as he listed his head to meet the watery blue eyes staring straight into him, he knew his life would never be complete without his winged guardian. He knew he could never live without him.

The thought had barely left him when the lead Warlock, finally happy with his work, sunk a silvery blade into Castiel’s chest. The look of stunned disbelief that crossed the angels face was visible for a single moment before everything was engulfed in white light.

Dean felt something snap inside him as the light faded and the image of two scorched wings came into view. Something in him died. And all he knew with utter certainty was that if he wasn’t next then he would enjoy the warmth of their blood streaking across his tear-stained face.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I am so sorry about this. This isn't something I would usually write but I wanted to branch out from smut ^^''  
> Please let me know what you think and if you notice any mistakes, I will rectify immediately.


End file.
